<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Lost Along the Way by zechs_merquise</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266767">Lost Along the Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zechs_merquise/pseuds/zechs_merquise'>zechs_merquise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Knives Out (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Identities, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Benoit Blanc is on the case, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lieutenant Elliott is so fucking done with the Thrombey family, Linda Drysdale is a cold racist bitch, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, but only in the context of the accident, this is an amnesia fic folks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:27:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zechs_merquise/pseuds/zechs_merquise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ransom Drysdale,  out on bail, decides to skip town. Taking off on a secret boat, he sails down the Massachusetts coast when a freak storm forces him to dock in a small coast town in Rhode Island. The storm ends up taking something precious from him only to give him something even more precious in return.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera, Linda Drysdale &amp; Ransom Drysdale, Ransom Drysdale/Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. What's in a name?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Been mulling over this idea for the last week and decided to turn it into a series.</p><p>I would like to, as always, thank my very best friend <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardodysseys/pseuds/waywardodysseys"> waywardodysseys </a> for being my beta and my muse. She has been encouraging me to write this since I bombarded her with the idea.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now you listen to me Ransom, it is just you and me now. Your father is no longer in the picture.” Linda Thrombey (<em>n</em><em>ot </em> Drysdale, as her divorce was currently being fast-tracked thanks to her lawyers) downed her three fingers of scotch in one gulp, “I can forgive this whole murder nonsense and I will help you out as much as I can as long as you listen to me and not do anything stupid.” Her index finger tapped out a staccato rhythm on the now empty scotch glass in her hand. </p><p> </p><p>Ransom sat in his leather armchair close to the window, aloof and barely listening to the words his mother was saying. He may have caught every other word of his mother’s rant and that was being generous. His bored blue eyes followed Linda’s figure as she paced around his living room. “We will figure this out. I still have plenty of money and connections. My lawyers are just as good as your grandfathers. I certainly pay them enough.” Linda refused to say Marta’s lawyers since they were now in fact Marta’s lawyers and not Harlan’s. Her pacing continued.</p><p> </p><p>A huffed sigh pushed its way out of Ransom’s lungs, “why don’t you have another drink, mother?” He lazily gestured to the wet bar in the corner of the room. His mother shot him a hot glare and all but slammed her glass on the coffee table, “don’t you get smart with me, young man.” Ransom’s response was just a blank stare in her direction.</p><p> </p><p>She crossed the room, finger accusatory in his direction, “I bailed your ass out of jail and I am doing what I can to keep you out of jail. I am barely keeping what’s left of our family together after that little latino slut took what was rightfully ours. Like I said, I can forgive what you did because you were doing what you could to get our fortune back. Although I don’t agree with your methods. So you better show me some goddamn respect, son.”</p><p> </p><p>Ransom sat up, straightened his posture and plastered on a fake grateful smile, “Sorry mother, thank you mother.” But his expression fell back to one of bored contempt which caused Linda to roll her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Mother and son sat in silence until Linda’s phone rang. She excused herself into another room briefly before returning, “okay, that was our lawyer. Your hearing is next week and that will determine if you get sentenced or they take it to trial, but whatever happens, I will take care of it.” Linda eyed the scotch at the wet bar considering another quick drink before she left but ultimately decided against it. “Now, until then, stay home and don’t do anything stupid! Do you understand me?” She collected her belongings, pocketing her phone back into her purse all while eyeing her son expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>Ransom stood, walking Linda to the front door, “Yes mother, of course mother, whatever you say mother.” His tone was mocking and sarcastic. His mother turned to him, as she stood under the threshold of the door. She gave him a small solemn smile as her hand came to his cheek. There she caressed the beauty mark on the left half of his face, stared into the eyes of her only son and said, “I should have aborted you when I had the chance.” Linda patted his cheek and walked to her car only to hear her son yell from behind her, “I love you too, mother.”</p><p> </p><p>He watched the car fade out of sight and slammed the door. Yeah, there was no way in hell he was sticking around here. Luckily, Ransom was a lot like his grandfather Harlan. More so in the aspect of, he always thought ahead and always had a back-up plan. Down to his basement he went. He kicked open a secret panel he had installed and hidden under the stairs. There he pulled out a black duffel bag and emptied the contents on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Ransom organized everything on the floor as he checked off his mental checklist out loud. </p><p> </p><ul>
<li>Fake IDs and passports? Check.</li>
<li>Sealed bags of cash equaling out to $250,000? Check.</li>
<li>Burner cell phones? Check.</li>
<li>Keys to the boat he bought last month that no one knows about? Check.</li>
<li>.380 handgun with the serial numbers filed down? (<em>Just in case</em>) Check.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>All he needed to do now was pack and escape unseen to his boat. One could liken him to a tornado with how fast he was running around his house. He packed up his designer leather duffel bag with everything he knew he needed that wasn't already on his boat. While packing his toiletries in his shaving bag, he looked at himself in the mirror. Ransom took note of his features. He looked tired but he already knew this and felt it. Blue eyes drifted up to his hair. Should he dye it or maybe shave it? His hair was unmistakable and his best feature. A grimace crosses his face as he decides against it. He figures if he got far enough away on his boat it wouldn't matter. </p><p> </p><p>It takes Ransom a few solid hours to make sure everything is perfect and ready to go. He hears his phone chime a few times (<em>messages from his mother no doubt </em> ), all of which he ignores. He eats the last meal he will have in his home while Frank Sinatra croons lowly in the background. Sitting in his favorite chair by the window, his tired eyes roam the open floor plan of his home. Ransom tries to commit everything to memory because while he was literally about to leave this all behind, this was still his home. Briefly, and only for a fraction of a second he considers burning the place down but ultimately decides against it. <em> That would be too dramatic, even for him. </em></p><p> </p><p>The two duffel bags are waiting for him by the back door. Ransom leaves his house keys, car keys and cell phone on the kitchen table. Should he leave a note for his mother and get the final word in? Or was that too smug? He shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>Under cover of darkness with bags in hand, Ransom took a long look at his home. Knowing this was the last time he would ever lay eyes on it, he whispered to his home, “see you never.” </p><p> </p><p>The fall air was crisp and the autumn leaves crunched under his feet as they carried him into the woods behind his home where hidden under a tarp in the trees sat his getaway car. It was a used up old beater he would never be caught dead in; which is exactly why he bought it the same day he bought his boat. Both purchases in cash and under a fake name. </p><p> </p><p>The drive to the secluded marina where his boat was docked was long and arduous. He didn’t take any chances. Back roads were taken to avoid all toll roads where cameras could possibly pick up his face. Although his cautious efforts should have eased his paranoia, he remained vigilant: white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and laser focused on the dark road ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p>Arriving shortly after midnight, the dock was just off the town of Duxbury. Ransom parked the car in an abandoned lot. He wiped down the interior and keys the best he could. Leaving the car unlocked with the keys in the ignition, he figured someone would steal the car eventually. He trekked the last few blocks on foot to the dock which he happily found devoid of anyone else. There were no security cameras to be seen, which is the exact reason he chose this dock. </p><p> </p><p>The boat was prepped, his belongings safely inside and Ransom was feeling a little more relaxed already. He cast off and once he was a safe distance out in the bay, he sat down with his map and planned his route. By his calculations, once he was out of the main bay of Cape Cod, he could sail down the coast towards Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard, maybe making a pitstop in Chatham to refuel and stock up on necessities. </p><p> </p><p>Ransom sat back in the cabin and sighed, more of the paranoia and worry was sloughing off his shoulders; he could breathe a little easier. Not wanting to declare himself home free just yet, he got to work on the last bits of his plan. The burner phones were programmed and set for weather alerts as well as news reports. He knew it was only a matter of time that he would be discovered missing but at least he could get a good day or two head start. While he knew that his case and family drama was at the forefront of Massachusetts news, he gambled on the fact that even then, it wasn't enough to make it to national news. So when the news of his ultimate disappearance did come to light, it would stay localized within the state leaving him safe to travel down the coast.</p><p> </p><p>He was able to make it safely to Chatham with no issues. Ransom was about an hour off the coast of Nantucket Island when the first news alert hit. Just like he thought, it was only reported on the local news outlets. </p><p> </p><p>The noon day sun was hanging overhead. He was laid out on the stern of the ship with a book in hand letting the slow rocking of the boat lull him into a relaxed and peaceful state. The chapter in his book was coming to its penultimate conclusion when the phones in the cabin started blaring with alarms. The storm warning alerts were screaming at him. According to the alerts he was headed straight into a horrendous looking storm. <em> Well shit</em>, he thought. </p><p> </p><p>The storm was two miles off the coast of New Shoreham. The GPS told him he was in Rhode Island waters and too far out to make it to Newport. However he was close enough to the coast town of Galilee to dock just as the storm was hitting. He didn’t like how close he was cutting it but he had no choice.</p><p> </p><p>He was a mile off the coast when the Point Judith Lighthouse light came into view. The wind was churning the sea and whipping hard against the sides of his boat. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn the storm was chasing him down specifically. By the time Ransom made it to the nearest waterfront and got his boat docked and tied down, the rain was beating down on him. There was no way he could wait this storm out on the boat, the amount of rocking alone was making him sick to his stomach. According to his phone there was a motel less than a mile up the road. He was going to risk it. </p><p> </p><p>Ransom secured all his belongings in the cabin and tied everything down tight.  Pocketing some of the getaway cash he had on hand, he sealed it along with his fake ID in a waterproof bag tucking it safely away on his person. He watched the sky carefully, waiting for any momentary break in the rain, whether it slowed or stopped briefly he didn’t care. It would allow him to safely get off the dock and onto the main road outside the marina.</p><p> </p><p>Shooting his shot when the rain slowed, he made his way off the dock with great care. Without the use of his phone’s GPS guiding him Ransom made his way to what he thought was the main road. Once there, he took great care to stick to the side of the road as there was no visible sidewalk due to it being completely flooded from the rain. The wind and rain began to pick up again and beat hard against his now soaked body. He felt as though he was being bitch slapped by thousands of needles because of the unholy mixture of heavy rain and fast winds.</p><p> </p><p>Although mindful of the oncoming traffic in his direction, he was unaware of how close the wind had pushed him into the road. Ransom was too busy wiping rain out of his eyes to see the car that was headed in his direction. The sound of the car horn that was mere feet away from him was drowned out by the sound of thunder in the sky above.</p><p> </p><p>His vision swam blurry with bright lights, only for him to realize at the last second he was about to be hit by the car. His body reacted before his brain did, fight or flight kicked in. Ransom Drysdale leapt to the left, off the side of the road, with the car missing a full body collision against him by a fraction of a second. While still midair, having not yet touched the ground, he was thankful that he was about to make it out unscathed. </p><p> </p><p>Only, he thought too soon. What he didn’t see as he was falling, was the guardrail his head was about to connect with. The sickening crack of his skull and the twanging sound of the metal guardrail were muted by the rain.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was black. His face felt wet but it felt both hot and cold which he found odd. The ringing in his ears was prevalent. Heavy eyelids began to flutter open, visually surveying the situation before him. Looking down at his clothes he noted that he was not only soaking wet but he was also lying in a puddle that seemed to be getting bigger. Looking up, it dawned on him that it was raining. Pretty hard, in fact. <em> Okay then, I am in a puddle in the middle of a rainstorm. </em> He concluded.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling around him, his wet hands met with the solid object behind him. It was a guardrail. <em> Alright, so I am in a puddle on the side of a road in the middle of a rainstorm. Fantastic. </em>Gripping the rail behind him and using it as leverage he was able to stand up straight. His clothes were thick and heavy with mud and water. His brain was finally starting to catch up with the rest of his body due to the fact he was starting to feel a sharp and awful pain in his head. </p><p> </p><p>He was too busy trying to figure out where he was and what happened to him to notice the car that was coming straight for him. The car swerved to the right and skidded to a slippery halt in the middle of the road. He stared at the car for a moment, his head tilted in confusion. He watched it intently as it safely pulled off to the side of the road in front of him. The car door opened moments later, a large purple umbrella opening up effectively shielding the woman who was now running towards him.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god, are you okay?” She shouted, trying to make her voice heard over the storm. She quickly brought him under her large umbrella and began to survey him for injuries, “what on earth are you doing out in the road in the middle of a storm like this?” She looks as confused as he feels. Is she scolding him? It certainly feels like it.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” He answers her truthfully. He really has no idea why he is out in this storm or even where he is. Suddenly he feels her hand on his chin, pulling his head down and to the side, “sir, you are bleeding really badly from your head!” She can’t tell how badly or what the true damage is because of all the mud. The woman is significantly shorter than him so he begins to bend at the knees effectively bringing himself down to her height so she can examine his head better.</p><p> </p><p>He takes note of her furrowed eyebrows and the concern plastered all over her face. Once his chin is released from her grip and he has returned to his natural posture she asks him a question he should very easily know the answer to, “what’s your name?”</p><p> </p><p>He goes to answer but his mind is drawing a complete blank, “my name?” He squints, his head cocks to the side and his nose begins to wrinkle. He’s hoping in some strange way that the facial movements would jog his memory. Nope. Zip, zilch and nada. </p><p><br/>He stares at the woman in front of him, this nice woman shielding him from the storm under her purple umbrella and says, “<b><em>I don’t know what my name is</em> </b>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. When a Girl met a Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The world finds out that Ransom Drysdale is missing and Finn Fenner's life gets turned upside down when she almost hits a man with her car. Marta Cabrera and Benoit Blanc are having tea when Benoit gets an unfortunate phone call.</p><p>I would like to, as always, thank my very best friend <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardodysseys/pseuds/waywardodysseys"> waywardodysseys </a> for being my beta and my muse. She is also a very fantastic writer and you should check out her work!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Three days ago…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hugh Ransom Drysdale if you do not pick up your goddamn phone this minute I am going to call the cops on you out of spite!” Linda yelled into the phone, frustration and rage lacing her voice. This was the tenth voicemail she has left for her son and still he hasn't picked up. She knew he was doing this on purpose. She even had other family members try to call and text him, but much like her, they were ignored. Linda huffed as she threw her purse onto the passenger side seat. She knew she was going to have to go over there.</p><p> </p><p>There were several scenarios going through her mind involving what she was about to walk into: </p><ol>
<li>Ransom could be blackout drunk in bed or on the floor</li>
<li>Could be high as a kite on some designer drug and wandering around his house naked, (<em>wouldn’t be the first time</em>).</li>
<li>He could have a house full of people passed out from a long night of partying.</li>
<li>Ransom is in bed with several young ladies who are precariously lying naked on top of him, (<em>last time Linda came upon this scene she counted five women and a very pretty looking man</em>).</li>
<li>He is probably tossing popcorn in his mouth, like a child, and watching his phone ring.</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>However, Linda was surprised to find Ransom’s driveway free of any vehicles aside from his Beamer. Linda hummed suspiciously when she exited the car and got a good look at the house. With his home being made of almost entirely windows, it was easy to see inside from the outside. After a couple quick glances in different windows, Linda didn't see any lights on. She checked her Cartier wrist watch and noted the time was almost 1:00 pm. </p><p> </p><p>She thanks the stars above, she had a copy of Ransom’s house key made years ago. After sliding the key into the lock and turning it, she knocked on the door with two quick taps, signaling her entrance before calling out his name, “Ransom?” She called but was met with silence.</p><p> </p><p>Linda came into the main room, blindly letting her purse slip down her shoulder onto the table by the door. However the sound which should have been relatively silent was not. It sounded like her purse landed on something. Linda picked up her purse only to find Ransom’s car keys, house keys and cellphone sitting on the table where her purse had landed.</p><p> </p><p>Picking up Ransom’s phone, she tapped the screen. Although she couldn’t unlock the phone, she was still able to see the notifications. <b>37 missed calls, 85 text messages, 16 voicemails</b>. </p><p> </p><p>Something in Linda’s mind clicked. Something she said to him yesterday echoed in her mind, “<em> don’t do anything stupid </em> .” She remembers telling her son. Linda threw the phone down on the table. She went from room to room searching out her son and screaming his name. “That little bastard!” spews from her mouth when she comes to his bathroom and sees all of his toiletries gone. Linda screams loudly, so much so that she got lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Her nostrils were flaring, she was as angry as she was when she found out Richard cheated on her. She began to question herself, ‘ <em> why do the men in my life do this? Why do they break my heart and leave me all alone? </em>’ One could almost feel bad for Linda Thrombey. Except in this instance where she decided to level the playing field.</p><p> </p><p>Linda had made a decision. She wouldn’t call it a rash decision but it would possibly lead to some issues down the road. She walked out of Ransom’s bathroom and back into the main room where she found her purse. “If the little bastard wants to play games, then fine, he’s on his own,” she mumbles to herself as she unlocks her phone and dials a number.</p><p> </p><p>The line on the other end rings for a few moments until the receiver picks up, “This is Detective Lieutenant Elliott.” </p><p> </p><p>A tight but triumphant smile comes across Linda’s face, “Detective Elliott, this is Linda Thrombey. I just wanted to call and inform you my son has gone missing. Now I am not sure if he was taken or left on his own accord but I would like it if you could find him, please.” Linda knew Ransom left on his own, that was a clear fact but she couldn’t have the police thinking she helped him escape. “I am at his home right now, if you would like to stop by and take a look.”</p><p> </p><p>A deep sigh from the detective came from the other end of the line, “I will be right there.” He hung up the phone. Detective Lieutenant Elliott pinched the bridge of his nose, scrubbed his hand down his face and dropped his head down onto his desk, “<em> fucking Thrombeys </em>,” he groaned. </p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Present day</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p><em> (bzzz bzzz. bzzz bzzz </em>)</p><p>
  <em> Wake me up before you go-go </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (bzzz bzzz) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wake me up before you go-go </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don't want to miss it when you hit that high </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wake me up before you go-go </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (bzzz bzzz)  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A hand slipped out from under the blankets, smacking around feeling for the horrible technological monstrosity that dared interrupt her dreams. A grumble, groan and moan later, she finally silenced her cell phone alarm. Relishing in the peace and quiet she snuggled back into her warm blankets. Just as she was at the precipice of sleep, the ‘shave and a haircut’ rhythmic knocking on her bedroom door awoke her.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweetie, it’s time to wake up. I heard your alarm go off and I know you turned it off.” Came the voice on the other side of the door. She tried playing dead, hoping and praying it would work and the voice would go away.</p><p> </p><p>“Finola Francine Fenner, I am coming in whether you like it or not.” The voice announced as the jiggling doorknob announced the imminent arrival. “Auntie, go away!” Finn begged grumpily from beneath her comforter. Her soft and warm bubble was popped when her blankets were ripped away from her body.</p><p> </p><p>The glare of the morning sun was blinding. Finn’s arm came to shield her eyes while her body curled in on itself trying to conserve the heat she was robbed of. “Now you see, I wish I could go away. I wish I could go far away and be on a beautiful island right now walking nude on a beach walking hand in hand with Daniel Craig but I’m not. I am here waking you up like you wanted me too because you said you had a lot of stuff you wanted to get done today and you didn't want to sleep in and ruin your perfectly laid out schedule.” Her aunt said pointedly, “but luckily for you, I came bearing coffee.” </p><p> </p><p>The arm that wasn't shielding her eyes extended out to her aunt, grasping at the air begging for the warm cup to be placed in her waiting hand. When Finn felt the warmth and weight of it in her hand she finally uncurled and sat up on the bed, bringing the mug to her lips. With a satisfied hum and slow swallow, “Ah, finally, my one true love and I are reunited.” Finn sighed happily as she took another sip.</p><p> </p><p>“Once you are finished making love to your coffee cup, you can join me downstairs for breakfast where more coffee will be waiting.” Her aunt informed her as she walked out of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“I LOVE YOU ALMI!” Finn shouted to her aunt's retreating figure only to have her aunt shout in return, “I know!”</p><p> </p><p>Once the first cup of coffee was successfully finished off, Finn finally got out of bed and began her morning routine.</p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>It was two days after Thanksgiving in the coastal beach town of Galilee, Rhode Island. The weather had been unusually snow-free and warm for this time of year. While most of the residents were happy to have a decently warm November, they knew it meant the impending winter months would be rough.</p><p> </p><p>Finola Francine Fenner, or Finn as she was called by everyone in town, was a lifelong resident of the town. She, along with her aunt Almira, lived in and ran the Fenner Bed and Breakfast. It had been the former summer home of her great great (<em>however many times great </em>) grandfather James Fenner, who was the former three-time governor of Rhode Island. The house had been kept strictly in the family per James Fenner’s last will and testament. Finn’s uncle Christopher had owned the home until his death in the early 80’s, when her aunt Almira and uncle Cecil took over ownership and renovated it into a bed and breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>While she had been born in Providence, Finn had only lived there for less than a year. Her permanent home of Galilee came with the unfortunate loss of her parents, who died in a car accident during a freak flash flood during the spring after all the snow melted. Almira and Cecil Andrews, her paternal aunt and uncle, had been babysitting her at the time. Finn was too young to remember her parents but she was raised knowing them as well as she could through pictures and home movies. </p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>The sounds of George Michael echoed through the old heating vents. She could hear the music her aunt was playing from the kitchen all the way into her upstairs bathroom. It always made her mornings much more pleasant. Quiet mornings were reserved for the busy season when they had guests staying at the bed and breakfast, but since they were now in the off-season, Finn and Almira filled the house with music every chance they could.</p><p> </p><p>With her shower finished, hair blowed dry and light dusting of make-up applied, Finn hummed and danced her way down the hallway, down the stairs and into the kitchen while she dressed herself along the way. Almira was already waiting with Finn’s second cup of coffee in hand. “You are a saint.” Finn declared as she greedily sipped the beautiful brown liquid. </p><p> </p><p>“So you've told me.” Her aunt chuckled. Finn took her seat at the table, her body wiggling to the rhythm of the song playing. While she expected her aunt to hand her a plate of food, she was met with not a plate of delicious food, but her large purple umbrella being put on the table in front of her. “Umm, I am pretty sure my umbrella cannot be eaten, auntie.” Finn raised an eyebrow at her aunt.</p><p> </p><p>Almira crossed her arms and gave her niece a stern look, “did you happen to see the color of the sky this morning?” Her question was met with a pair of rolling eyes courtesy of the woman in front of her. “Oh god, not this again.” Finn dropped her head to the table, “you are not a weather person, Almi.” Her voice was muffled but her aunt heard her loud and clear.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m not? Are you sure? Because every time so far I have been right!” Almira beamed with pride knowing that she was going to win this battle, “now, say it with me, ‘pink sky in the morning, sailors warning. Pink sky at night-” She started rhyming only to have Finn finish with her, “sailors delight.” they sang in unison. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.” Finn grumbled as she lifted her head off the table. She took note of her aunt rubbing her hands and knuckles, “it’s going to be a bad storm, isn't it?” She questioned only to have Almira confirm it, “I believe so, I can feel it in my bones. They are aching something fierce this morning.”</p><p> </p><p>With a nod, Finn decided to get a jump start on her schedule. “Okay then, I will take something to-go. I have to run to Sal &amp; Sally’s to get new foam coverings for all the water pipes. We need to winterize the house quickly. It’s the end of November, Almi, and we haven’t done anything yet.” Finn finished off her coffee before she continued, “so, I need you to call the Parker boys and see if they can get all the Christmas lights up early. We can take advantage of this warm weather while we have it at least. Do we need anything from the grocery store?” </p><p> </p><p>Almira looked through the fridge and cabinets, “Well, lets see, we need some honey. I used the last of it this morning. Some more pancake mix, and we need everything for our margaritas. Remember, the full moon is Thursday! Which means another monthly rendition of our Full Moon Midnight Margaritas!” She emphasized with jazz hands. Finn scoffed with a happy smile as she wrote down everything in her phone. “Okay, got it.” She grabbed her umbrella and purse. With a kiss to her aunt’s cheek she was out the door.</p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>“You should get home quick Finny, the storm is coming fast!” Mrs. Benson warned as she rang up the last of Finn’s groceries.  “Don’t worry Betty. I am headed home right now.” She paid then waved her way out the door.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, her aunt was right. Damn her ridiculous weather predicting skills. The air pressure had dropped from the time Finn went into the grocery store and when she left. The sky above was dark as night, rumbling and cracking with thunder. She quickly put her groceries in the backseat of her car and the second she was safely inside with the door closed, the sky opened up and it began pouring. </p><p> </p><p>Windshield wipers on high, she slowly made her way home. The road was almost invisible with the amount of rain covering it. Luckily she knew these roads like the back of her hand and knew where the traffic lines were. The sound of her phone kept pinging from within her purse, no doubt it was her aunt wondering where she was. Almira was always paranoid during these really bad storms. They brought up unpleasant memories of Finn’s parents' car accident.</p><p> </p><p>Finn was almost home,<em> “just three more miles to go” </em>, she told herself. Her aunt however, had different ideas, because her texting had now turned into phone calls. The incessant ringing was starting to get on Finn’s nerves. She blindly reached into her purse, searching for the phone to answer, only to have something in her purse stab her finger. “Motherfucker!” She shouted. She brought her finger within her eyeline, trying to inspect the damage and keep her eye on the road. She looked at the finger, for less than a split second, seeing there was no blood, she returned her full gaze to the road in front of her only to find that she was about to hit something!</p><p> </p><p>Finn yelled and swerved in the middle of the road. She slammed on the brakes and thanked all the gods that existed; she didn’t swerve off the road and crash. Her heart was pounding at an unnatural rhythm in her chest, she thought she was having a heart attack. “What the hell was that?” She asked herself. She tried to make out what it was but the rain was falling too hard. Shaking herself out of a stupor, Finn pulled her car safely off to the side of the road. She reached in the backseat and grabbed the large purple umbrella. She opened the driver's side door a crack to get the umbrella out above it and opened it without getting the inside of her car wet.</p><p> </p><p>She ran towards the figure, only to realize that it was a man! “Oh my god, are you okay?” She shouted, trying to make her voice heard over the storm. She almost hit someone, she couldn't believe this. She quickly brought him under her large umbrella and began to survey him for injuries, “what on earth are you doing out in the road in the middle of a storm like this?” Finn noticed he had a dazed look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” The man said. He was soaked to the bone and covered head to toe in mud. Finn finally noticed the red color pouring down his face. She grabbed his chin, turning his head away from her so she could look at the injury on his head, “sir, you are bleeding really badly from your head!” Despite the mud covering most of his head and face, she knew that the injury was bad. </p><p> </p><p><em> ‘Shit, shit, motherfucking shit.’ </em>Finn’s brain yelled at her. She can’t leave him here like this! She had to get this man help, but the nearest hospital was two towns away and they are standing in the middle of a severe thunderstorm. “What’s your name?” Finn asked. She might as well find out the name of the man she almost hit.</p><p> </p><p>The answer however, knocked her for a loop and was not what she expected, “<strong><em>I</em></strong><b><em> don’t know what my name is</em> </b>.” he confessed after a moment of staring at her.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Well fuck </em> ’ she thought. ‘<em>Okay Finn, you can figure this out. </em>’ She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. The last thing she needed was to upset this man who clearly had already been through hell. “Okay, well, my name is Finn.” She put her hand softly to her chest, “I am going to get you out of this storm and get you someplace safe okay?” She's nodding to him softly hoping he will agree. The man begins to nod, “okay,” is all he says. </p><p> </p><p>Finn offers him her hand so she can safely lead him to her car, “I am going to take you to my house, okay? It’s very close by and I can tend to your injuries.” She informs him of her plan as they walk slowly towards the passenger side of the car only to be met with another “okay.”</p><p> </p><p>When they finally reach the car, Finn rests him against the side of the car as she opens the passenger side door. She moved her purse into the backseat and out of the way. “Alright, in we go.” She says with as much of a smile as she can. Once he is securely in the car with his seat belt fastened and the door closed, Finn let out a very long and shuddering breath. This is not what she foresaw happening this morning when she woke up.</p><p> </p><p>After steeling herself once again, she walked around to the driver's side and got in after she folded her umbrella down. “Alright,” Finn began as she got in the car, “I am going to have to call you something, I can’t keep calling you sir.” She declared. Once the door was closed, she tossed the umbrella in the backseat, avoiding her new passengers head. Unfortunately, it landed right on top of the groceries which were flung about the backseat from her earlier swerving. “Crap,” she hung her head in defeat. She turned in her seat and tried to collect the groceries as best as she could when she noticed the teddy bear shaped bottle of honey. “<em> Honey, </em>” she said softly.</p><p> </p><p>Finn turned forward in her seat, “I’m going to call you Honey. That sounds better than sir, right?” She eyed her passenger expectantly. His gaze had been locked on the road in front of them since the moment she put him in her car. It wasn't until she said the word honey, did his gaze falter and turn to her. “Yeah it does,” he said softly.</p><p> </p><p>The response made Finn’s heart soar, the first real response that wasn’t an “okay.” “Well, Honey, let’s get you home so I can take care of you.” She smiled, and he smiled in response. Despite her outwardly calm appearance, Finn was having a panic attack inside. <em> How in the hell was she going to explain this to Almira?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Luck had to be on her side, because the storm was finally slowing down when she pulled into the back driveway of the bed and breakfast. </p><p> </p><p>Inside, Almira was frantically pacing the kitchen, her phone clutched tight in her hand. She was nervously biting her thumbnail. She couldn't lose Finn the same way she lost her brother and sister-in-law. <em> She couldn’t </em> . She refused to be completely without family at the young age of fifty-five. She already lost her husband two years ago, she <em> would not </em>lose the only child she ever had. </p><p> </p><p>Almira heard the car door slam shut from outside and she raced to the porch only to be met with Finn who was climbing up the steps with great speed. “Where in the seven circles of hell have you been?!” Almira crushed Finn in a hug, sobbing through her words, “do you know how worried I have been?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Almi-” Finn wheezed, trying to speak but her aunt's hug was crushing her lungs. “Almi, please!”</p><p> </p><p>Almira released her niece and started checking her over for injuries, but Finn grabbed her hands and held them tight, “Almi, I am fine but I need your help!” Finn’s eyes were frantic and filled with worry. She grabbed her aunt's hand and led her down the stairs to her car, explaining everything that happened. She opened the passenger side door, revealing the man she has been calling ‘Honey’ for the time being. “Alright, Honey, this is my aunt, her name is Almira. She’s going to help me get you inside the house so I can get you cleaned up okay?” Finn reached over and unbuckled his seatbelt. She and Almira each grabbed one of his hands and helped him out of the car. Both women were dwarfed in comparison to the large but firm man covered in mud. Each slinging an arm of his over their shoulders, the three of them moved slowly towards the back steps.</p><p> </p><p>“Almi,” Finn spoke as they reached the top of the steps, “can you go and fetch uncle Cee’s medical bag, shave kit and some of his winter clothes? I think they should be around his size if I had to guess.” Her aunt nodded, and released herself from the muddy man’s grip. She held open the backdoor watching as Finn and ‘Honey’ slowly made their way to the downstairs bathroom that was off to the side of the kitchen. When they were safely inside and Finn had the man sitting safely on the stool inside the bathroom, Almira ran upstairs to get the items requested.</p><p> </p><p>Finn sat back against the counter, out of breath but smiling, in an attempt to keep her new house guest at ease. “There now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Her voice was light. The man before her remained almost catatonic except for a few blinks and deep breaths. </p><p> </p><p>Now that they were in better light, Finn could see the damage to his head a little more clearly. “I am going to take a look at your head now, okay? That means I am going to have to touch you.” She raised her hands, palms open, showing him that she meant no ill will towards him. ‘Honey’ nodded, “I trust you.” His voice was soft but clear.</p><p> </p><p>Finn moved into his personal space, lightly and carefully, she began to separate the hairs on his head. The mud was caked to his scalp enough that she still couldn’t clearly see the wound but she could determine that it had stopped bleeding thanks to the mud. “I can’t see much with all this mud, we are going to have to get you cleaned up in the shower before I can tend to your head wounds.” She said the words without thinking but when she pulled back she froze.</p><p> </p><p>‘<em>H</em><em>ow in the hell am I supposed to clean him up with a shower, when I don’t even know if he can get himself cleaned up in this state </em>?’ She smacked herself in the forehead, “shit.” she said aloud, not realizing it.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked, his beautiful blue eyes stared at her in question. </p><p> </p><p>‘<em>Crap. How the hell are you going to explain this? </em>’ Finn took a deep breath, her foot began to bounce frantically on the floor, “well, uh- you see-” she began but was losing her nerve, “the thing is, like I said, you are going to have to shower before I can clean your head but you can barely stand on your own… so that means… you can’t shower by yourself…” her voice softened to a barely audible whisper. She fell back against the counter, unable to stand on her own anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what you are saying is, you have to shower with me?” He asked with a slight amusement to his voice. Ransom watched as a blush crept up from her chest and into her face, effectively turning it bright red. “Yeah.” she squeaked out, she cleared her throat in an attempt to remain unaffected by the situation but was failing miserably, “but, I will make sure that we are as clothed as we can be.” she gave him a resolute nod. “I will be wearing a swimsuit and I will make sure you have some swim shorts, so that way it can be less awkward than it already has to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Ransom couldn’t stop the laugh that came busting out, even though his head and body ached something fierce, he enjoyed the feeling the laughter brought to his body. Finn gaped at the man in front of her, “Are you making fun of me?” </p><p> </p><p>A dirty hand came to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound, “No, well, yes. I’m sorry for laughing but you are cute. You’re flustered and blushing, it’s cute. I’m sorry for laughing.” He sealed his palm over his mouth showing her he was done laughing. Finn couldn’t help but grin at him. Despite not knowing who the hell he was, Ransom was still a flirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoever you were Honey, you had to have been quite the ladies man. Being covered in mud, with your head split open, isn’t dampening your game, no sir.” Finn shook her head. It was a good sign that he was engaging in conversation, with decently full sentences and no slurring. Maybe his injuries weren’t as bad as they seemed, except for the memory loss; but who knows how long it will last? </p><p> </p><p>Finn pushed herself off the counter once more and went to turn on the shower, making sure the water would be warm by the time they would have to get in.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Ransom’s voice was strong and grateful, “really, thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn't found me when you did.” Now it was his turn to blush although you couldn't see it under all the dirt and mud.</p><p> </p><p>Finn’s toothy smile flashed his direction, “it’s no trouble at all, Honey.”</p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>“This tea is delicious. Thank you Marta.”</p><p> </p><p>Marta refilled the cup of her esteemed guest, “the pleasure is mine, mister Blanc. I can’t say how grateful I am that you came to check on me before you left to go back home. It means a lot.” She sighed happily and took her seat across from the man she now happily called a friend.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, my dear. How are you and your family settling into your new home?” Benoit asked while sipping his tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, actually. My mother really enjoys the house although she is still unsure of a lot of Harlan’s taste in decor.” She couldn’t help but giggle, “so we worked it out to have some of the things in the house put up for a charity auction and the proceeds will go to help rebuild community housing in poor neighborhoods like the one I used to live in.” </p><p> </p><p>Benoit couldn’t help but beam, “your kind heart is a true marvel. Harlan would be very proud.” He drained the rest of his cup when he heard the clock on the wall chime. “I best take my leave but rest assured, I will be checking on you soon.” He offered her his hand as he stood from the armchair. Just as Marta went to grab his hand, Benoit’s cell phone began to ring in his pocket, “oh please pardon me.” He said to Marta as he fished his phone out and answered it without looking at the caller ID. “Benoit Blanc, how may I help you?” </p><p> </p><p>Marta began gathering up the cups and placing them back on the tray when Benoit’s voice turned tense, “ah, yes, I see. That is quite unfortunate. No, uh, I will tell her. Yes. I will call you back shortly.” Marta looked at him confused, wondering the context of this one sided conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Benoit hung up the phone while staring at Marta, “well it seems, I am going to have to cancel my flight.” He sighed, he didn’t want to tell Miss Cabrera this news, but he had to, “it seems as though Ransom Drysdale has gone missing. That was Detective Lieutenant Elliott, apparently his mother Linda reported him missing four days ago. Upon further inspection of his home it would seem our young Ransom has made a run for it.” Benoit watched as the panic grew in Marta’s eyes. He quickly came to her side and ushered her into the nearest chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Wh-what does that mean? Is he going to try and come after me again? Will he come after my family? What do I do?” Marta began to ramble, the ice and adrenaline running through her veins was making her nauseous.</p><p> </p><p>Benoit’s hands clasped both of Marta’s into his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs, “I need you to breathe Marta.” He mimed slow breaths in and slow breaths out, coaxing her to follow his movements. She did after a moment. “Now I want you to listen to me very clearly, there is no reason for you to fear. I will be personally taking on this case and I will see it through to the end. You have my guarantee. Okay?”  Benoit gave her a reassuring smile.</p><p> </p><p>Marta shook her head, “okay. Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>Once he was sure that Marta was calm enough to be left alone with her mother and sister, Benoit took his leave but not before calling Detective Lieutenant Elliott back and assured him that Benoit Blanc was on the case.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BENOIT BLANC IS ON THE CASE!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know what you think in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>